Love and Joy
by dear-lovely
Summary: "If you can't accept me for the person I am, then I'm unsure if you ever truly loved me at all."


This story was written for the Ninth Round of the Seventh Season of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. I'm writing as Beater 1 for the Tutshill Tornados.

Name of the round: **Long Live (the) Queen!**

Description: This round is a tribute to the legendary rock band, Queen, and its iconic lead singer and pianist, Freddie Mercury. Each position's stories should be inspired by the Queen song allocated to them. But, there's a catch! Your story should contain at least one line of lyric from the song. Please mention what lyric you've used in your a/n!

Prompt for Beater 1: **Love of My Life**

Lyrics used:

\- "**...you've hurt me; You've broken my heart, and now you leave me"**

\- "**...how I still love you"**

\- "**Bring it back, bring it back" **

\- "**Love of my life"**

These are the optional prompts I'm using:

4\. (occupation) **musician**

5\. (plot point) **disowning someone or being disowned**

13\. (quote) **'Remember to deliver with the speed of light, A little bit of love and joy' - The March of the Black Queen by Queen**

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. J.K. Rowling owns everything from the Harry Potter universe and Queen owns their songs.

Thanks to my team for betaing!

* * *

Title: **Love and Joy**

Words: **3022**

* * *

_July 2, 1994_

With his eyes solely concentrated on his fork scraping against the ceramic plate, Cedric Diggory tried his best to block out the conversation between the adults. He knew what was being said about him, and he didn't care to listen to his father boasting about him, lauding him with unwarranted praise. If he could concentrate on the unpleasant squeaking from the fork's friction, he could hopefully make it out of this dinner alive.

"—and we're so glad that he's qualified for the Tournament this year, aren't we Cedric?" Amos Diggory's voice managed to pierce inside his head.

Cedric sat up alarmed. "What? For what tournament?"

Amos cocked his head to the side. "The Triwizard Tournament, of course. We've been discussing it with Mr. Bagman all evening. Haven't you paid attention?"

Cedric shook his head. "No, sorry. I've been distracted. So the Triwizard Tournament is coming back this year?"

"Yes, and I guarantee that it'll be a huge success!" Ludo Bagman piped in. "It will be held at Hogwarts and students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be in attendance. I'm sure that Hogwarts will be victorious in the end, especially since you're probably the most skilled out of all the wizards your age." He slapped Cedric heartily on the back, making him wince.

Regrettably, Amos saw the look on his face. "Don't you agree, Cedric? I've raised you to be a great wizard. It'd be a waste if your talents weren't showcased to the world."

Cedric inwardly groaned, not the least surprised that his father had misread his reaction. "No one has been chosen yet. It would be unlucky to talk as if I'm already Hogwarts's champion," he answered like a true politician, unsure about his actual feelings about the competition.

As Amos began his rebuttal, Beryl Diggory clutched his arm and squeezed it, reminding him of their guest. She intervened, "I think we're all just a little bit tired after our meal. Why don't you clean up and head to your room, Cedric? The rest of us can move this conversation to the sitting room for some cabernet." Beryl led a grumbling Amos to the neighboring room, followed by a good-natured Bagman.

Cedric slumped in his chair, lazily piling up the dirty dishes into their kitchen sink with some effortless wand work. His parents never abided by the "no magic outside school" rule. It didn't matter to them as long as he was the best. Meeting their expectations was exhausting. Such high standards would make anyone go crazy, but Cedric understood that they just wanted the best for him. Yes, he was grateful for the privileges he had been given, but, frankly, it was overwhelming. He finished cleaning up the dining room and silently escaped his home.

* * *

It was a breezy, summer's evening. Cedric strolled the dark streets of Ottery St Catchpole in an attempt to clear his mind. He enjoyed the expanse of land and the looming forest adjacent to the village. After walking down the road for miles on end, Cedric heard a distant thumping sound, repeating chaotically. Intrigued, he walked towards the direction of the dulled booms until he came across a shoddy pub, surrounded by Muggle vans. It was the part of town Cedric was never allowed to visit, as it was too dangerous and dodgy for Amos's liking. He made his way inside.

Once he stepped inside the pub, the music's pace slowed down and a calm wave soothed over the audience. Onstage was a man in his mid-twenties sporting long, chestnut locks, clinging onto the microphone. Cedric was in a daze as he sang.

_A voice from behind me reminds me_

_Spread out your wings you are an angel_

_Remember to deliver with the speed of light_

_A little bit of love and joy_

The song continued its varied course, and Cedric found himself entrapped by the man's angelic voice. He didn't know how he found his way to a seat on the bar, nor did he remember ordering and drinking his cider. All he could focus on was the man pouring his heart out on stage.

When the song finished, a roar took over the building as the man jumped offstage and made his way to the bar next to Cedric, who still hadn't bothered to take his eyes off the man since he stepped inside.

"I'll have a whisky neat, Harold."

The bartender nodded as he started to prepare the man's drink.

"And I'd appreciate it if you didn't gawk at me like I'm some exotic animal, young man," the man added without looking Cedric's way.

Cedric blushed, embarrassed that he was caught. "Sorry… I've just never heard such beautiful singing before in my life. You were amazing up there!"

The bartender slid the drink down the bar and the man caught it with his left hand. He drank it all at once, slammed it down on the counter, and asked for another.

"Thanks, kid. Although there are many people out there who are more talented than I am, I appreciate your enthusiasm."

"Well, you're really good. Just wanted you to know that," Cedric mumbled.

They both drank their respective drinks in silence, amidst the noise from the rest of the pub and the instrumental guitar playing in the background. The man turned to Cedric and held out his hand. "I'm Myron. Myron Wagtail."

Cedric's jaw dropped to the floor. "From the Weird Sisters?"

"Yes, from the Weird Sisters. Although no one here knows about it, so you better keep it mum." Myron sighed, his hand still waiting.

"Oh, sorry." Cedric shook the long-awaiting hand. "Name's Cedric Diggory. I have to admit, I never listened to the We—"

Myron gave him a pointed look.

"_Your_ group," Cedric corrected. "My family never exposed me to the artistic side of our world. Now I understand why so many of my classmates are obsessed! Was that a Muggle-fied version of your song?"

Myron shook his head. "Not even close. That was a Queen song."

Cedric looked at him blankly.

"Wow, you're uncultured, huh? Queen is one of the greatest Muggle bands to have ever existed! They were a really big hit when I was still in school. Oh, have the days gone by…"

Cedric hesitated, not wanting to get shut down but having the urge to ask. "I don't know if you ever do this kind of thing, but will you perhaps teach me about music?"

Myron's eyebrow rose. "Like… you want to learn an instrument or how to sing or…"

"As you said, I am uncultured. I just want to be cultured by one of the best."

"So you want me to teach you about music in general?"

Cedric nodded.

"I'm a musician, kid, not a historian."

Cedric countered, "But you clearly know about Muggle _and_ mag— _our_ kind of music. Plus I have a feeling that you don't have to be a historian to know the best."

Myron flopped his hands in the air, shaking his head as he replied, "Sure, why not?"

* * *

_August 31, 1994_

Humming to himself, Cedric entered his house while stuffing his Walkman inside his shirt. It had been an eventful summer, to say the least. The more he hung out with Myron, the more he felt his eyes open to the possibility of entering the music world. First, it was just the greatest hits, from David Bowie to Celestina Warbeck to Weezer. As the days progressed, Cedric found himself learning how to sing as well as how to play every instrument in a standard band. All the while, his friendship with Myron naturally bloomed into something more. Cedric never knew he could feel this way with anyone before, much less with a grown man, but that didn't stop him. He couldn't help but smile when thinking of him.

"Where were you?" boomed a voice from their sitting room.

Cedric approached his father, expecting doom. "Just outside."

"Back to the same place where you've spent most of your time this summer?"

"Er, I don't know what you're referring to."

Amos spun his chair to face him. "Off to see good ol' Myron?"

Cedric blanched. "H-How did you know about him?"

"I followed you, son. Your mother and I got concerned when you snuck out after dinner. What I saw was… alarming, to say the least. It's almost sunrise, for Merlin's sake! Did he put you under the Imperius Curse?"

Cedric shook his head. "_No_, father. I wasn't coerced by anyone."

"Well that doesn't make any sense," Amos rebutted, "because no son of mine spends his time playing terrible music and fooling around with drugged-out hippies—"

"Myron is _not_ some musician with a drug problem!" Cedric snarled, feeling the need to defend his lover. "He's been teaching me about music and other joys in life! For the first time ever, I feel free. Free from obligations and expectations and—"

"Free from being a Diggory," Amos interrupted. "This is not how Diggorys behave, and this nonsense will not be tolerated. We have done everything for you, Cedric, and this is how you repay us?" He scoffed in disgust. "Get out of my sight."

Cedric froze in shock, then uttered, "If you can't accept me for the person I am, then I'm unsure if you ever truly loved me at all." He quickly left the room and shut the door, not wanting to hear his father's response.

* * *

_November 1, 1994_

At seven in the morning, Cedric was seated at the far end of the Hufflepuff table haphazardly playing with his porridge. The Great Hall was mostly empty, save for a few students and a couple of professors who all congratulated him on being chosen as Hogwarts's champion. Yesterday night was mostly a blur, things involving Harry Potter usually were. It didn't bother Cedric that they were both chosen; he was more concerned with how his father would react to the news.

The last time Cedric had spoken to his father was the night before he left for school, and he'd been going back and forth between not caring about what his father thought of him and obsessing over whether or not his father had actually disowned him that night. He was the only reason Cedric had entered his name in the Goblet of Fire.

So much has changed for Cedric since that fight. Shortly after he went back to school, he received an owl from Myron saying that they couldn't be together since he didn't want to be crucified by the press for having a relationship with someone underage. Not being able to tell anyone about their fling made it harder for him to heal his broken heart. Then he turned seventeen, was thrown a surprise birthday party, and made out with Cho Chang. Cedric liked her enough, so now he had a girlfriend. It was nice and all, but when Cedric couldn't sleep at night (which was most nights), he jotted down poems and lyrics about his lost lover.

An owl swooped down from the ceiling—Cedric immediately recognized his father's owl. Anxious about his reaction, he opened the letter.

_Well done, son._

_AD_

Cedric stilled from smoothing the owl's feathers. He gave her a treat, then sent her on her way without a reply. It was hard to swallow the sad truth about how his lifestyle now was considered to be more acceptable compared to his life when he was truly the happiest. Before he could think about it more, he was joined by his girlfriend and everything washed away.

* * *

_December 25, 1994_

It was cold outside, but at least it was better than watching _him _perform. Cedric couldn't believe it; out of all the Wizarding groups in the world, why did it have to be _them_? He scoffed to nobody as he caught onto the last notes of the song.

"_Can you dance like a Hippogriff? Yeah, yeah, yeah! _Thank you, everybody. Goodnight!" Myron shouted to the crowd.

He was glad that it was over, which means they'd leave the ball soon and Cedric could go back inside.

"Fancy seeing you here," a voice came from behind him.

Cedric stopped himself from flinching and instead turned around to meet Myron's chocolate-colored eyes, eyes that he loved. "Hey, Myron."

"I heard you're Hogwarts's champion—one of them at least. Congrats."

He nodded his thanks but didn't say anything. They studied each other in silence, noting what was different and what stayed the same. After a moment, Cedric whispered into the air between them, "You've hurt me. You've broken my heart, and then you left me. Why?"

Myron stepped closer to him and crushed him into a hug. "I'm so sorry, Cedric. If someone found out about us, there'd be no hope for us. You know what they'll say. I just didn't want to burden you with all of it."

Cedric grabbed ahold of his shoulders and shook him. "Some things are worth fighting for. _You_ are worth fighting for. These last few months made me realize how I still love you _so much_."

He beamed brightly at the news. "You know what, kid? I didn't want to admit it, but I felt the same way."

"You probably shouldn't call me that anymore. I'm legally an adult now," Cedric snarked back as he tightened his hold on him.

Myron guffawed loudly before they sealed their reunion with a kiss.

* * *

_June 25, 1995_

As Amos approached his son's area in the Hufflupuff's dormitory, he was met with a strangely tidy space unlike Cedric's room at home. He pulled the curtain back and took notice of the journal laid in the center of the bed. He snatched it and flipped through; it was filled with poetic verses and lovely lines that Amos couldn't fathom coming from his son's mind but knew it was evidence of the version of Cedric he refused to see.

His knees growing weak, Amos fell to the ground. He grasped onto the side of the bed, trying to steady himself to no avail. Huge sobs racked his entire being, and he felt the tightness of his breath spreading all over. All he could do at this moment was drown in a deluge of regret.

He didn't register the door opening, nor did he notice someone wrapping their arms around him.

"Amos?" Beryl soothingly asked. "What's happened?"

With the strength he could barely muster, he repeated in between sobs, "It's my fault that he's dead. It's all my fault."

She shushed him lovingly. "Don't think that. It's not your fault."

"_BUT HE WOULDN'T HAVE ENTERED IN THE FIRST PLACE IF IT WASN'T FOR _ME_!_" he wailed. "Bring him back," he begged of no one. "Bring him back."

Beryl kept him in her arms, reassuring him time and again. As the hour passed by without them moving or Amos's grief abating, she withdrew her arms and pressed her forehead against his. She looked down as his sobbing continued, where she noticed him clutching a journal in his arms. "Was that his?" she whispered.

Amos nodded, handing it over to her.

She turned the cover and caught the note slipping out. After realizing what it was, she shook her husband's shoulder and gave it to him. "You need to read this, Amos."

He paused his crying for a second to give her a quizzical look, then rubbed his eyes to see clearly. Amos recognized the note as the one he sent to Cedric when he heard the news, which was the moment when he'd written his son back into his will. He flipped it over and saw his son's handwriting, the same scrawl as in the journal.

_Mum and Dad:_

_Even though I'm already two tasks in, I don't want to risk going into the third without taking some necessary precautions. I heard that this final task is the most dangerous out of all of them, and I'm taking this as seriously as possible._

_To be honest, I never wanted to enter the Tournament, but I did it for you, Dad. At first, I wasn't happy that I was chosen, but now I'm grateful that it brought our family back together. If the worst happens to me, just know that I love you, and I hope I made you proud. _

_You both are the loves of my life, and nothing could ever change that._

_Best,_

_Cedric_

_P.S. Don't wallow in misery once I'm gone. As one of my favorite Muggle artists once said: _

"_Remember to deliver with the speed of light_

_A little bit of love and joy"_

Amos looked up at his wife with the remnants of tears in his eyes. "I don't know what to say," he mumbled.

Beryl smiled at him. "It's okay. Words can wait another day."

* * *

_February 14, 2010_

It rained during the day, but only puddles of mud remained at night. As Amos crossed the graveyard with two bouquets in hand, he took in the silence. It was unusual for this spot in the graveyard, but he was thankful for it. He crouched in front of two tombstones, placed the bouquets in their assigned spots, then stood back up.

He faced the tombstone on his left. "It's been almost sixteen years, my boy. It doesn't feel that long when you left us, but I suppose time goes by when you're constantly on my mind. I miss you, and I love you. Happy Valentine's day, Cedric." He placed a hand on top of the tombstone, reading the inscription they carefully crafted back then:

_Here lies Cedric Diggory:_

_The perfect son, friend, and champion._

_REMEMBER TO DELIVER WITH THE SPEED OF LIGHT_

"And you," Amos turned to the other tombstone. "I trust that you're taking good care of him up there. You have been a rock throughout all of it, and although you're not perfect, I still care about you because he did."

He studied the words for the millionth time, wondering how he could've been so blind all those years ago, before leaving the graveyard to go home to his wife.

_Here lies Myron Wagtail:_

_A rockstar until the end._

_A LITTLE BIT OF LOVE AND JOY_


End file.
